Fallen Duck
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: A Mighty Ducks story. Gordon Bombay’s thoughts during D2 as he lay on the ice, and the consequences of his injury.


Fallen Duck  
  
[pic]  
  
By Charmega  
  
Disclaimer: The Mighty Ducks and all its characters belong to Disney. I do not claim ownership of anything in this story, except the text with which it has been written and the idea that started it.  
  
Summary: A Mighty Ducks story. Gordon Bombay's thoughts during D2 as he lay on the ice, and the consequences of his injury.  
  
Genre: General  
  
Rating: G  
  
  
  
All he could see was a black jersey, and he felt the pressure of his body against the boards and glass window. He thrashed, freeing his head just enough to see another dark streak coming right for him. There was no time to brace for impact...  
  
The next thing he knew, searing pain roared through his knee. Cool ice lay against his cheek as he struggled to sit up, but the agony was nearly unbearable. It took all his effort not to scream in anguish.  
  
There was a distant sound like thunder, and nearby voices speaking in worried tones.  
  
"Are you alright, Bombay?"  
  
"It'll be okay Gordon, just lie still."  
  
Hands supported his head, and his helmet was removed. He jerked halfway upright, clutching at his burning knee, but his strength failed and he collapsed to the ice.  
  
Dimly, he heard someone calling for a stretcher. Then all sensation ceased.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
On a breakaway for the net, he felt confidence and strength that had been lost since the injury. Stansson was down; there was no stopping this goal.  
  
Had it really been necessary, taunting Wolf that way? After all, the man had quite a temper. Knowing him, he'd get revenge for that crack even if it disregarded his deal.  
  
That train of thought screeched to a halt as he heard the scraping of metal on ice behind him. Before he could move, images of black and pain suddenly attacked his mind.  
  
In the next moment, he was skidding across the ice on his side, excruciating pain upwelling in his knee. He slid to a stop, face-down, and then tried to get up without putting any weight on his knee. His movements were sluggish, his mind was filled with terrifying images of injury at the Minor League game.  
  
As the Ducks gathered around him, gently hauling him to his feet, he caught a glimpse of shock on Wolf's face. That dirty, cheating Icelander...concerned? For him? Surely he saw wrong, for in the next moment there was nothing but coldness on that face.  
  
"Get your coach off the ice," Wolf barked. "We have practice."  
  
He glared at Wolf, trembling in the hands of his friends. He tried to evoke some form of caring from those dark eyes, but there was nothing but arrogance and harshness.  
  
"Let's go," he whispered, voice hoarse past the pain. He turned to skate away, but his injured knee kept him effectively immobilized.  
  
As if sensing his pain and inability to move, the Ducks surrounded and supported him as they slowly skated off the ice and into the locker room. He was in a daze, a red mist covering his vision. Voices babbled in his ears, and his vision blurred.  
  
The Ducks eased him down to a prone position on a bench and an ice pack was placed against his knee. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but didn't say a word. He closed his eyes, forcing down the pain as much as possible.  
  
"Ms Mackay, I think he needs a doctor," he heard Charlie say.  
  
"I think you're right," Mackay's voice answered, her concerned tones sounding very close to him.  
  
"No, no, I'm alright," he muttered, eyes flickering open. "Just got hit hard."  
  
"Are you sure, Coach?" Charlie asked.  
  
The pain was dulling now, probably from the ice pack. He nodded. "I'll be okay in a minute."  
  
"That jerk!" Dean growled in the general direction of the Iceland team. "I can't wait until I meet up with him. Then he's gonna wish he never crossed Team USA."  
  
Gordon touched his arm. "No, Dean. Revenge isn't the answer."  
  
"But Coach-"  
  
"You'll understand someday," Gordon said.  
  
"So now what do we do?" Goldberg asked. "Those Iceland goons took over the rink."  
  
Gordon had a perfectly innocent expression. "We're going to play hockey."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"When you said we were going to play hockey, I didn't think you meant THIS," Charlie said, watching over Gordon's shoulder.  
  
On the TV screen, the hockey player under Gordon's control did a triple- deke and scored a goal. The coach glanced sideways at Goldberg. "You're slipping at this."  
  
"Hey, a video game can only do so much!" Greg shot back. "Besides, I think this is unfair."  
  
Dean was studying his controller, trying to find the "bash" button. "I like real hockey better," he finally declared, pasing the controller over to Guy. The Bash Brother dropped into a chair next to Adam, in the back of the room.  
  
Luis' character kept running into the boards, and Gordon sighed as he saw him slam yet another glass panel. "Luis, the brake button's that one," he said, pointing to the right button on his controller. "You keep hitting 'accelerate' instead."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Hey Charlie, do you want to play?" Gordon asked. Charlie nodded, and the coach handed him his controller.  
  
Gordon watched as his team worked together, fighting back their computerized opponents and scoring goals. He smiled when Charlie took charge as team captain, dishing out advice to anyone who needed it. Triple Deke, Flying V...all their strategies were tested against the game.  
  
'If they can do that on the ice,' Gordon thought, 'we get the gold.'  
  
It was then that Gordon saw his team with a new light. As he watched the kids play, he didn't see Team USA, one loss away from elimination. He didn't see Team USA at all. Instead, he saw a flock of unshakable Ducks. Winning didn't matter. Hockey is more than that.  
  
Laughing to himself, Gordon went in search of Jan.  
  
  
  
  
  
"When everyone says it can't be done, Ducks fly together." -Coach Bombay 


End file.
